


Otherwise Kiss My Eyelids Closed

by feraljayce



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Burns, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Do Not Archive, Eye Trauma, Jon betrays Martin trust kind of, M/M, Nightmares, Post-MAG 169, Referenced Child Abuse, The Beholding, The Desolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feraljayce/pseuds/feraljayce
Summary: After 10, 15, 30 minutes, ignoring the urge to Know and understand anddrinkin the terror Martin felt became more and more difficult. It wasn’t unlike holding a raw piece of meat in front of a starving dog, and though Jon certainly wasn’t starving, that ravenous hunger was still there. And as that grew, the reluctance to go against Martin’s wishes became faint.Eventually, the static urge that itched at Jon’s mind and skull became too much to bear, and Jon shuffled himself a bit to turn fully to Martin. He pulled his legs up to his chest and stared at Martin with all of his eyes, his beloved becoming the main focus of his wretched gaze. And he Saw.-Jon can't fight the urge to See his boyfriend's nightmare.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67





	Otherwise Kiss My Eyelids Closed

**Author's Note:**

> title from the buttress' inferno

Hours passed before the pair were far enough away from the scorching apartment buildings to only see the smoke in the distance, and during that stretch of time, not a word had been spoken between them. Any physical remnants of Jon’s lackluster vengeance had crumbled away, but the memories of what had happened was still fresh in their minds. There was… so much the two needed to talk about, after their most recent terrifying ordeal in this fear-pocalypse. 

Well, at the very least terrifying for Martin. Jon didn’t feel afraid in the same way he used to. The one time he felt that now unfamiliar rush of adrenaline through his body was when Jude threatened Martin. _His_ Martin. 

Martin on the other hand, was no longer afraid. It was quite easy for Jude to feed off of his fear of the flames, the burns, the pain, but now that they were quite a distance away - Martin would like to say that they were only a few miles away from the screams of agony within the apartments, but distance was quite difficult to gauge nowadays - any fear he had felt had retreated back to his subconscious. Now he was just tired. His burns had disappeared and his coughing had finally stopped about an hour ago, and he was just. So. Tired. He and Jon had taken some breaks on their revenge journey (Which Martin was starting to be less enthusiastic about- he would talk to Jon about it later), and he hadn’t necessarily needed to sleep during these past few weeks, but… the mental break might be beneficial. He turned to Jon, who was focused on the path ahead, seemingly avoiding looking at Martin. Was it because of guilt? Was he ashamed of putting Martin through Jude’s flames? Was it that their ‘victory’ was empty, and no one was really saved? Or was it the guilt of enjoying their pain, taking it all in to document and store away in his mind? A more alert Martin may have dwelled on these thoughts, and most likely asked Jon about them in an effort to get him to be more open, but the mental exhaustion from the previous events made these anxious thoughts stop almost just as they started. They could have a talk about this later, for now Martin desperately wanted to rest, to sleep, and honestly just not think consciously for a while. 

“Jon-” Martin finally croaked out, breaking the silence between the two. He coughed a little, though this was less pained from smoke inhalation and more dry, from a voice that hadn’t been used in a while. “I- I think we should rest, Jon. I know we don’t really need to sleep so please don’t go on about how pointless rest would be, but… we both have had a long day. Is there anywhere safe enough for us to settle down?”

Jon finally, finally looked back over at Martin. 

“Uh..” he muttered out softly, turning away again to scan the environment around them. They were in between domains, in what used to be a field, with a few bare and dark trees scattered about. Jon could go on a deep explanation on how they were as safe as they could be, because the Beholder would not let its Archivist and his beloved be seriously damaged, but in all honesty, Jon was exhausted too. Maybe not physically, since the ‘statements’ of those in the apartments as well as smiting Jude had filled him with an almost jittery energy, but he felt mentally taxed. Even just glancing at Martin, he could tell that the other man felt the same. He didn’t have to Know, he could just tell from the tired look in Martin’s eyes, as well as his tear stained - but no longer smoke stained - face. 

“We could rest there,” Jon stated, motioning with his free hand in the direction of a nearby tree, gnarled and twisted but safe enough. “I won’t be able to sleep, you know that. Even with our distance from a new domain, I can still feel so much, Martin. I-,” he took a breath and was thankfully able to stop himself. “I’ll stay awake. I can keep an eye on you, ah… mind the pun.” Jon finished this with a tired smile, rubbing his thumb against Martin’s hand.

This earned an equally tired smile from Martin, not being able to stop the chuckle escaping his throat. “I’m sure you can, you’ve got plenty to spare. Thank you, Jon.” He squeezed Jon’s hand as he began to walk down towards the tree, letting go of the hand so he could get settled. He kneeled down and took off his backpack, undoing the straps on the bottom of the bag to grab and roll out his mat. He patted it down in an attempt to make it comfortable, which he knew it wouldn’t be. There wasn’t much comfort to be found anymore, not anything that isn’t fleeting. He looked back up at Jon, asking with a slight tilt to his head, “Are you sure you don’t want to at least try, Jon? You.. you could really use some sleep.”

“No, no, even if I could sleep, I don’t think I could right now. I- I think I’ll just-” he plopped himself down next to Martin’s mat, leaning back against the tree. “Sit here, I’ll be able to rest in my own way, sitting down and attempting to relax may do me some good.” 

Despite any issues the apocalypse may have brought onto their relationship, Martin had a deep love for Jon. He rolled his eyes fondly at Jon’s action, since the way he said that almost reminded Martin of how things used to be. Almost. Martin laid down on the mat, resting on his right side in order to face Jon, and took off his rounded and cracked glasses. He placed them against a root right next to Jon, and sighed. “Alright, Jon. Just don't be afraid to lay down with me, I won’t mind.” Shuffling one more time to feel comfortable enough to sleep, Martin smiles once more at Jon. “Well, goodnight then. I love you.”

No matter how many times he has heard Martin say those three words, he would always cherish them. He learned not to trust any comfort he could experience in the apocalypse, but he can trust Martin. No matter what, Jon can trust Martin, another thing he doesn’t need to Know to know. 

“Goodnight, Martin. I love you too,” Jon softly said, leaning over just a bit to run a hand through Martin’s curls. 

And with that, all of the exhaustion that weighed down on Martin began to dissolve as he faded into a deep sleep. He had always been a deep sleeper, Jon thought, knowing this from experience rather than from the ‘grace’ of the Beholding. He could delve into how this had affected Martin’s life, and although the craving for that knowledge itched at the back of Jon’s mind, he didn’t attempt to See any of Martin’s life. He didn’t want to go against Martin’s wishes. So, for a while, he sat next to a dreamless Martin and stared blankly into the distance, head filled with Knowing and pain and grief. At least it wasn’t Martin’s.

That wouldn’t last, though.

It started with noticing Martin fidget in his sleep. Jon knew that was a telltale sign of a dream about to happen, it didn’t always mean a nightmare but, he Knew. He Knew. He tried to ignore it, of course, but he could feel the fear begin to come off of Martin in waves. He could nearly smell it. After 10, 15, 30 minutes, ignoring the urge to Know and understand and _drink_ in the terror Martin felt became more and more difficult. It wasn’t unlike holding a raw piece of meat in front of a starving dog, and though Jon certainly wasn’t starving, that ravenous hunger was still there. And as that grew, the reluctance to go against Martin’s wishes became faint.

Eventually, the static urge that itched at Jon’s mind and skull became too much to bear, and Jon shuffled himself a bit to turn fully to Martin. He pulled his legs up to his chest and stared at Martin with all of his eyes, his beloved becoming the main focus of his wretched gaze. And he Saw.

Nightmares were always more difficult to clearly See, because of the abstract aspect of dreams as a whole. Jon wondered, for a moment, that if Helen could See, would she enjoy the disjointed nature of this? This thought was brief since Martin’s nightmare was becoming a bit clearer. At first, it was a very vague feeling of simply being in danger. From who, or what, was faint. Then the image of Martin’s mother was projected, and a blurred scene began to play out. Jon couldn’t help but make a face once he realized this, he always was disgusted at the idea of Martin’s mother. Martin had given him a brief synopsis of his home life before, so he knew she was far less than pleasant. This part of the nightmare didn’t have much dialogue besides Martin’s fretting, asking if she was okay, if she needed anything, not unlike what Martin would do for him, and… Tim, and Sasha, when things were different. Okay. The object of Martin’s fear, however, was her stare. She judged every action he did, refusing to even speak to him as he desperately tried to take care of this heartless woman that happened to be his mother. She didn’t even look at him like he was a person, and although Martin’s present self was what appeared in the dream, Jon Knew that this stare, this judgement, had been scorched into Martin from such a young age.

Just as Martin began to plead for recognition, for… anything, Jon believed, just something other than that stare, the perspective changed. And the scene became all too familiar. Even though Jon couldn’t feel it, he knew Martin felt _hot_. From Martin’s perspective, Jon could see the fire all around them, the only thing not being burned was Jon, right in front of him, dragging him along an unknown pathway and speaking about the horrors of the victims trapped here. However, it came through as just static. Everything hurt, so much, and - Jon hadn’t realized just how deep this fear of burns was. With every ragged cough ripped from Martin’s body (was Martin really coughing that much? Why hadn’t Jon noticed... ), the panic over possibly getting singed grew more and more. Another blur happened, and suddenly Martin was observing Jon confronting Jude Perry. A surge of guilt began to swell inside of Jon, knowing that this must’ve been utterly terrifying for Martin. The conversation seemed muddled, the most present things from Martin’s subconscious being the heat and the fear.

Jon should have come back to himself and wake Martin up. He knew it. He Knew it, but he didn’t. He had to know what would happen, see just how afraid Martin was. Viewing from Martin’s perspective, he could hear the growing sound of static coming from the dream-Jon, and before Jude Perry did anything, the sight of this twisted version of Jon made the real Jon freeze for just a moment. It wasn’t how any traumatized statement givers would have seen him, no, it was simply a black mass in a general Jon shape, covered in constantly shifting eyes with their gaze fixed on Jude, making her See. Did Martin really see Jon this way? No, no, he wouldn’t, he… this was just a horrifying mixture of all of Martin’s fears, and one of them must be the fear of Jon fully becoming a monster. Still, it wasn’t a pleasant sight, but what was next was even worse. 

Jude began to go on her rant, saying that she and Jon “weren’t that different”, but as Martin near-screamed at her to just die, she turned to him and grinned wickedly. Her boiling skin was melting slowly off of her body as she resisted the Watcher’s Gaze, but that didn’t stop her from full on launching herself at Martin, immediately knocking him down and squeezing her bubbling hands around his neck. And Martin screamed, in a way that Jon had never heard before, not even from the worm incident that seems so small compared to their current situation. His skin sizzled under her grip, and he tried to kick her off, but these efforts were fruitless. 

“Oh, the Archivist’s little boytoy thinks he can fight back, huh?” she hissed, the malice dripping out of her mouth much like the wax dripping off of her body and onto Martin, burning holes in his clothes and in his skin. Martin couldn’t scream anymore, now that Jude’s grip was tightening even more around his throat, which was beginning to bubble as well from the heat of Jude’s scorching palms.

“You are nothing, I can sense it, I wonder why the Archivist brought you along on this pointless journey. Maybe he likes pushing you to your limits, hm? Feeding off of the very fear he forces you to endure? Or maybe you’re the one thing that makes him still feel human. He isn’t one, not in practice or spirit, and you know it too,” Jude sneered, cackling as Martin attempted to breathe, scream, anything. And the real Jon and the dream-Jon just watched without interference. “I wonder how the Archivist would feel if I took away your tethers to the ‘Ceaseless Watcher’, make you no longer trapped under its gaze,” she taunted, the sarcasm slipping through as she referenced the omniscient power now ruling this forboden world, “He’d probably hate it, since he’d have a much more difficult time keeping his _precious_ human ‘safe’. Or maybe he’d just be furious that you aren’t his anymore, since you wouldn’t belong to the Eye anymore. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Jon watched in horror as this horrifyingly nightmarish (but also very, very real. Too real.) Jude took one of her hands off of Martin’s throat, the other gripping with the same amount of strength, and plunged her burning waxy thumb into Martin’s right eye with a disgusting squelch. This ripped another choked off scream out of Martin, with this action quite literally making his blood start to boil as it poured out of his socket. Even if this wasn’t real, it still made all his nerve endings shout in a white hot blaze, and as much as he wanted to, Jon couldn’t look away as Jude did the same thing to Martin’s left eye. It tore him apart to feel his beloved’s pain and fear, but he guiltily relished the amount of fear coming from Martin, his internal pleads for the dream-Jon to do something, anything to stop this, to stop Beholding and interfere. He took this knowledge and categorized it in his mind, knowing that later he would dwell on these deeply hidden fears his Martin had.

One would think that after Seeing this, as well as Martin’s perspective in this hellish nightmare being cut off, Jon would retreat back to their apocalyptic reality and attempt to wake Martin up, but this revolting sight wasn’t what did it. The thing that made Jon pull away was the next part of Martin’s dream, when everything around him was gone besides the blinding heat. This isolated Martin essentially, made him entirely alone. While his sight was gone it felt as if the late Peter Lukas’s hand crept onto his shoulder, as it often used to, and called him back into the Lonely. This, despite everything else that had occurred in Martin’s mind, was what brought Jon back.

With a gasp, Jon stopped Seeing and suddenly he was seeing Martin shift slightly in his sleep, a faint uncomfortable expression on his face. Jon blinked a few times, pushing back the static desire that had filled him entirely, and reached out to lightly shake Martin.

“Martin, Martin wake up,” he pleaded softly, shame and concern lacing his words. “You’re safe, it’s okay, it’s just a nightmare. Please wake up.”

But he didn’t wake up, which Jon wasn’t surprised about. Martin was like this in the safehouse too, him being a deep sleeper made it difficult to awaken even from nightmares. 

Jon sighed, Knowing that no matter what effort he made, he would have to wait for Martin to wake up on his own. So he moved to lay down next to Martin, facing him and gently taking hold of his clenched hands. He leaned forward and barely kissed Martin’s forehead, and eyelids for good measure, and pressed close to him. No matter what, he would keep Martin safe from anything like this ever happening. He made a promise to himself that he would not be like the disgusting version of himself in Martin’s dream, and that he would interfere if things went south.

He just hoped he could keep that promise.

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is my first ever fic i've written, typically i will animate or draw out my ideas but this came to me while i was struggling to sleep. i also haven't had this beta read since i don't wanna spoil any of my tma friends that are currently listening! thank you so much for reading, if u have any criticism or comments feel free to share!!! ^_^


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